sitting on the dinner table
where instead of food, he was served cold
silence turned into words that hurt

sitting on the dinner table
he was served disappointment from others
who questioned his existence

sitting on the dinner table
his father made a loud thump on the table
spewed out his hate he always keep close

Here ─
In the loquacious silence
Of the white noise in my mind
I knew I wasn't present

My mother was near ─
With her mind withdrawn
Absent to some place
That dated from ages ago

My father would disappear ─
Only to continue being far
Once he was back
Now travelling into the future


And I have gathered a life without
Now
Right
Here

he is always mad at his own child
for the stones that come his way
but his child will forever be grateful
for what he has done for him

he is always mad at his own child
the one he raised under his roof
to make him into a man, only to
crush him under his own trauma

now grown into an adult
he wishes to run away to a place
where land stretches upwards into hills and peaks
and there are valleys to jump into

I'm an efficient mover
My first time was at seven
My mother woke me up
Before the sun could rise
Hush, "csitt", quick
The moving van arrived.
The furniture, a few,
Landed in the back,
My father crying softly,
Kissed goodbye to the cats.
My friends, neighbours,
And all we knew
Slept, as though nothing happened.

The next time I was eight,
Not much wiser than before,
My mother said she'd made a mistake,
She couldn't care for us no more.
This time there was no van,
Belongings were sold
There was only my mother
My cat
And I.
My brother left behind.
And also, the cat.
I lost so much more than it seemed
That I didn't know back then.

The third time I was twelve,
With my father stuck at work
We snuck out during the day.
I didn't change schools,
It was the same town,
A street away.
Hidden, under a tree
Hoping to never hear the fight.
My brother returned,
A girl followed,
That was our new family.
Although crowded in the same room,
For a moment,
I swear,
We were happy.

The fourth time I was fourteen,
Back into the nest we flew
Teachers said
Education is the future.
So to help with school,
We listened to the pressure
Of child services,
"A family that is together is a bigger help
Than anything else."
Except, what are you, ******* blind.

The fifth time I was fifteen,
I was put in an institution
Against my will.
It was for the best.
"Stop being selfish,
We need to save money."
What a burden, a child,
Its currency expenses.
At this one time I returned
For the weekend
My mother was gone,
She had left.

My sixth time was at eighteen,
Jumped into the arms of a boy
Who gave me an out.
A learning curve, a lesson,
One of the great mistakes of life.

My seventh time at nineteen.
Back into the house,
Helping my father get over
His drunken accidents
Tending to his scars
Trying to earn the great education
Everybody was preaching about.
It wasn't until later
My mental health came crashing.
It was time to skip
Earn some cash
See what I could make of myself.

That was my eight, twenty
Such a grown-up number,
Lived with boys,
Then older boys,
And whilst they cared for me,
I cared less for myself.
The era of failing had begun.
It took me less than six
Trying to scrape a life together
With someone I called friend
Only realising I wasn't strong enough,
So I ran.

My ninth, back into the house
My mother was back as well
Surprised her when I showed up
With a suitcase and backpack.
But in they took me
Left me to do my thing,
Let me wallow in self pity.
Ignored the demons that slept
In my bed.
They feasted on my dreams
And got stronger by the day
I carried them with me
Wherever I went.

My tenth, at twenty-two
The things I did for enough to escape
This great country of mine,
The ****** abuse, the hurtful words,
Boys will be boys,
You're too sensitive, said work.
Thank god for Tumblr.
For online friends, for all those chats
Headcanons and theories
That gave me confidence
To arrive in a country
That didn't speak my language
Despite me saying, 'sorry, what'
For the hundredth time
My love happened right on the spot
For theirs seemed unconditional.

My eleventh happened at twenty-three,
Different people formed a bond,
Late night talks, lectures, fun,
I was meant for this house.
Incredible
How much happens in a few years
For all that is worth,
I failed and grew at the same time.

My twelfth, at twenty-seven,
Bittersweet and new,
With a boy I loved and thought,
Could help me endure.
A short-lived memory
In the distance, that is.
A quick escape,
A step
Towards adult life.

My thirteenth, still at twenty-seven,
What I'm living now,
Exploring a new area,
With its medieval town.
The next season of
Something Beautiful
With the added spice of a cat.
I'm hoping not to leave.
I'm hoping not to move.
Not to make a move.
If I do, I might stir the darkness.
I shall let it sleep for now.

Sometimes I’m asked if I have siblings.
And I don’t mention you at all.
Inadvertently, I always tell a lie.
I don’t mention you with those still living,
because the hole you’ve left feels sore,
And I know I’m erasing you from life.

But you don’t exist.
I don’t speak your name,
who you are to me.
I don’t need their sorry, so pathetic.
What am I to say?
“I’m OK. You don’t need to worry.”

I don’t need their questions,
the “oh, no”s, “what happened?”
the regret that they had asked.
I don’t need a reminder of how different
it’s been since you’ve left
all so sudden, and so young.

You know you don’t belong here.
you’re a mismatched memory
amongst the living.
Like a puzzle piece
of an awkward family,
and now the piece is missing.

And now I speak ill of you.
And it makes me feel uneasy,
causing my head spin.
Because I do have siblings, I have a few.
And I don’t know them completely.
And you, Attila, I never will.

Comes a time when the baby needs settling down
Hushabye Mountain is best that I found
A gentle breeze from the sweet music is all that she needs
A warm bottle helps her fall asleep as she feeds

Before long her sweet baby blue eyes are closed for the night
And I just be starin’ at my little darlin’ an angelic little sight
I just wonder how many times her heart will get broken
By some little boy and some cruel misguided words hastily spoken

She’ll always have daddy to run to and find comfort and all
That is until one day I won’t be there to cushion her fall
But maybe by then she’ll have a little one all of her own
The cycle of life will repeat and she’ll feel the beauty I’ve known

If it be written in the stars that those you’ve loved you'll never lose
And circumstances seemingly stand in the way of what you would choose
Then all you can be doing is just live and try to go with what's right
Live again love again breathe again with all of your might

I hate being in my city in Switzerland at the weekend
I'm in a really noisy place
I'm really in the middle of all the nightclubs
All these demons of the night make so much noise that I hardly sleep
But instead I try to study and read a lot
I really regret not waking up earlier but I think I had to go through that to understand things
There are so many interesting things to learn, so many things to discover
I'm going to continue to travel, continue modelling, save money and take care of myself as much as possible
Yes, I still have my crazy side, but I'm using that energy differently
I'm an artist and I love creativity, and I always will be
But I really can't stand it any more
Even cigarette smoke makes me want to puke
Normally I'd have to move to a quieter place
I still have to stay in Switzerland for a while to sort some things out
And also to be with my grandmother
I don't want any distractions
I need to take care to my family  
My son, my cat and God come before everyone else
And I know that this world is becoming rotten and that children are becoming more and more ****** in their language and that there's a lot of fighting going on
That's why I've considered the best schools for my son, to see whether we'll be in Switzerland or not
I especially don't want him to get mixed up with the wrong people, and I'll be a very strict mother
For the moment he's just a baby and I'm giving him all the love he needs.
And as far as men are concerned, i don't need a man in my life, I've realised that he's just a burden and a hindrance to the things I want to achieve
I have men when I want them and I have who I want in the high standard of goodure
But I don't have time for that.

and i could hate the one who birthed me
and went through all that pain because i existed.
and she made me hate myself,
drew a line in my memory.

i've got nothing to remember,
only triggers that seem to last forever.

but she was and is my mother—
and despite all the pain and all the hurt she's given me,
i'll still take her stand when the world calls her wrong,
'cause i know what it feels like
to see your own going against you, before long.

and perhaps i'll carry these wounds,
of having to grow up with her
while helping her grow.

for i was a child,
and i still am—
but somewhere,
i became the mother
that i never had.

Finish your nearly dead, full of
stress phase of an education
And when you are still alive
after this non-stop narration

Become a chained slave
Strangle yourself with work
Replaceable product, undervalued
because your boss is a dork

Hunt the treasure of lies
Russian roulette of dates
Hate is bigger than love
Still seen as soulmates

Lose yourself to the sheets
the day you marry someone
Pray to god, when your lover
dances with his handgun

Pictures of families with masks
to hide the black dark shadows
Don’t untwist your tongue
when the pain only grows

Start and raise a family
with kids you absolutely hate
Because, it doesn’t matter
when this is your fate

Everyone has parents.
They always mean well right.
Or maybe they weren’t taught to fight.
Because no one ever taught then right.
Through all the aggression and ego.
their younger selves never had room to show.
And the chance to have love to expand.
And without them listening to understand…
It’s a strange way for them to plan.
The cries are too low for them to fear.
So where is the relationship left to go from here?
Slowly fading away through every tear.